


Paint Dry

by AvenGrey73



Series: Writings of a Serial Killer [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Death, Experimental writing, Might be disturbing to some, Murder, POV First Person, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:02:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22576768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvenGrey73/pseuds/AvenGrey73
Summary: Watching paint dry... much more interesting than you think.
Series: Writings of a Serial Killer [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624447





	Paint Dry

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I wrote back in 2013/2014. It began as a joke with a friend about trying to make things like "watching paint dry" into something interesting. My solution: put a serial killer into the mix. So this is the first work in a series of experimental writings I did about a serial killer.

In.

Out.

I smirk, watching the wet, white bead of paint slowly crawl down the wall in front of me. My breaths are deep and low and I feel content. The now white wall glistens in patches in front of me. A soft laugh escapes my lips.

Flash. Dark spots, red vision, red hands. Trembling, a roaring sound. White.

My smirk widens into a grin. The exhilaration is still delicious to think about. My hands still feel the power that coursed through my limbs and body. White paint everywhere, wet and dry, still gives off the chemical smell. Sharp, clean, and poisonous, I enjoy how intoxicatingly it comes through my nostrils into my lungs. The bead is slowing down, coming to a halt. It hovers there in front of me, reminding me again of the exhilaration…

Trembling, I can feel every muscle and tendon in my hand. Some of my joints creak, then all sound fades into a high whining noise. It’s piercing my skull, filling my ears until it is a roar. I lick my lips, tasting sweat. Taking a deep breath, I smile. My vision clouds over, turning my world an almost red and white scene. Laughing and practically giddy, I bring down the knife over and over again. Warm drops hit my face and the coppery taste slips around my tongue; a wave of energy flows through my muscles and bursts out in powerful gashes. Breathing hard, I feel strength emanating out in an aura.

White. Painting, I laugh. Slathering the wall, the paint makes that sucking wet noise as the roller crosses the wall. My smirk remains and I sit to watch the paint dry.

In.

Out.

It dries.


End file.
